


Tipsy Trespassing

by JaneyKatherineHummingbird



Series: Star Trek Reader Inserts [15]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drunk Reader, F/M, poor decision making, soft hearted Bones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11540265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneyKatherineHummingbird/pseuds/JaneyKatherineHummingbird
Summary: Reader ends up on Leonard McCoy's roof--without knowing how she got there.





	Tipsy Trespassing

**Author's Note:**

> Brand new Bones/Reader!!

"What in the heck were you doing on my roof? And with a fire extinguisher AND a black eye?"

"Ummm...." you hedged nervously, staring at the man whose home you'd inadvertently invaded when he'd found you on his roof. 

"Would you believe me if I told you I'm not really sure?" You squeaked, deeply regretting your decision to drink and do science with Scotty and Chekov. Whatever had happened, it wasn't good and had landed you in front of this fiercely scowling man, who was understandably upset at being woken up in the middle of the night.

"Drunken shenanigans, should have known," the man sighed, running a hand through his already sleep mussed brown hair. 

"Good thing you put the fire out, or I'd have had you arrested for arson."

You squirmed uncomfortably as guilt squeezed your innards. You should REALLY not have had all that scotch, but why was the grouchy dude grinning?

"Don't worry. You didn't set the house on fire. I was just messin' with ya," he said with a wink. "I've done some pretty stupid stuff myself while hammered, so I'm not the one to judge. I do hope this isn't a regular thing, however." 

"No, it's really not," you confirmed. "I just got carried away with some old friends. Never go drinking with a Scotsman and a Russian. You'll live to regret it. Ow, ow, ow." 

You clutched your head as it throbbed in earnest, the swollen eye merely an afterthought in comparison to what this hangover was going to be.

"I can help you out there. I've got a dermal regenerator if you'd like that eye seen to and painkillers for that massive headache you probably have."

"Don't go to any trouble. I'll just call someone to come get me out of your hair."

"It's no trouble," the man replied. "I'm a doctor. And who's gonna come get you at 3 am?"

Oops. You glanced at the clock and saw he was right. You couldn't wake anyone up at that hour, but what were you going to do? 

Your mysterious host started rummaging in a closet and presently returned with a regenerator and a hypo of what you hoped was pain relief.

"May I?" He asked you and you nodded gratefully as he extended the hypo. A gentle hiss, and it was over. It didn't take long before you felt the sweet relief as the meds kicked in.

"Thank you, Doctor......"

"McCoy, Leonard McCoy," he supplied gruffly. 

You allowed yourself to look at the doctor more closely and gulped. Despite his haggard, scruffy, interrupted sleep condition, he was not hard on the eyes AT ALL. 

You quickly looked away, flushing, as he inspected your eye area and ran the dermal regenerator over it. 

"I've got a spare bedroom if you'd like to crash here for the night," Doctor McCoy offered while the machine did its job fixing your sore eye. 

"You're too kind, doctor," you demurred. "You have every right to toss me out on the street right now." 

"Should, but I'm too softhearted," he admitted, with a twinkle in his striking hazel eyes. You gulped again. "Couldn't leave a body out in such an awkward position, could I? No telling what pick pockets might come along."

This sobered you up even more and you sat silently as the regenerator finished its task. 

"I'm going to trust you're not a serial killer and take you up on the guest room offer," you said with a yawn. "I'm not in the mood for staggering home." 

"Highly understandable," McCoy said, giving you a lopsided grin that revealed surprising dimples. "You're all fixed up and I'm going to trust you're not a cat burglar. The guest room's that door," (he pointed), "and there's a bathroom off of it. If you need anything, I'm up the stairs." 

"Thanks, Dr. McCoy," you said, mustering up a grateful smile and carefully moving towards the indicated door. "Sorry about all this. I'm Y/N Y/L/N, by the way."

"Just so long as you're safe. Night, Y/N," he said as you vanished into the guest room. Pulling off your pants, you slipped under the covers and were soon fast asleep. 

When you finally opened your eyes again, it was after eight thirty. You stretched and groaned, seeing your phone was stuffed with missed calls. You texted a reassuring message to your roommate to let her know you were fine and wandered back into Leonard's kitchen. 

It smelled like coffee and bacon, he'd obviously eaten and left for work, but there was a covered plate and a note left for you in a scrawly, but legible handwriting. 

"Hey, Y/N,   
I left this for you to chase away the last of that hangover. Hope you had a good rest. If you ever decide you'd like to change drinking buddies, here's my number."

His signature was written underneath, along with a phone number. You smiled to yourself as you pocketed the slip of paper and dug into the eggs and bacon. Maybe your tipsy trespassing might lead to more memorable outings in the future. Dr. Leonard McCoy was certainly the type to leave an impression, that was for sure.


End file.
